The Lord of the Shitty Fanfic
by TSBlack
Summary: Middle Earth is riddled with delusional fan girls, rejected Mary Sues, and countless legions of listless Tenth Walkers who just didn’t get the job. How will our heroes and villains use this excess of useless characters to their advantage? T for language.
1. A Really, Really Long Council

**The Lord of the Shitty Fanfic  
by TSBlack**

**Disclaimer: **The characters here are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien! Not me! And I claim them not, for they are not of my invention! Also the Mary Sues, fangirls, and Tenth Walkers (whether in mob or in specific) are not referential to any specific fan fictions, only to the general muck of bad LOTR fic that is available to the general public. No stealies here, folks.  
Just for the record, there is going to be rather colorful language here... be warned!

Also, I think it would be wise of me to note here that I love Lord of the Rings and this is NOT A PARAODY OF IT! It is, actually, a parody of all LOTR fic. And I am making this very silly indeed, and there will be lots of cursing and bad emo poetry, which with any luck will be cut off mid-verse by Aragorn's sword through the chest. Thanks ahead to anyone who reviews or follows! Your suggestions are welcome.

* * *

Chapter One: A Really, Really Long Council

Frodo awoke to the overpowering smell of lavender candles fighting with cinnamon apple candles for the air in the room. He heard some creaking, coughing, and cursing too.

"Where am I? What is the time?" he asked blearily. For a moment all he heard was more coughing and creaking.

"GOD DAMN IT!" shouted a familiar, grumpy voice. When he opened his eyes, he saw the stooped figure of Gandalf fanning the candle smoke and some of the smell out of the now open windows with his enormous sleeves.

"What is going on?" Frodo asked, again, feeling increasingly helpless.

"Sorry, sorry. You seem to have some admirers in Rivendell, my good hobbit," said Gandalf, fanning the last of the smoke out the windows and sitting on a stool by the large bed Frodo was lying tucked into. He pulled out his pipe and began to stuff it with some rather dry Old Toby. The less abrasive, familiar smell of pipeweed filled the room, and Frodo smiled.

"That's much better," he said.

"Good. Well, here you are, my friend, it's good to see you're awake. You were almost lost to us. BY the way, to answer your first questions, it's ten o'clock in the morning on October twenty-fourth." The old wizard puffed his pipe, happy not to be smelling lavender anymore.

"What did you mean, I have admirers here?" Frodo asked as the words Gandalf had already spoken finally began to sink in. The wizard's brow furrowed.

"Well, apparently many young women of rather unnatural beauty have been appearing all over the countryside near here, and some have been claiming that they came to the council Elrond has summoned. Though how a bunch of tarts found out about it, I shall never know," Frodo was silent for one long moment.

"Weird," he said finally. "I guess at least a few of them should come to the council so we can find out where they come from and send them back there."

"I like the way you think, old friend," Gandalf said, winking at him and blowing a little smoke ring.

* * *

The next day at the council, Frodo was surprised to see several young female hobbits of unnatural beauty, as well as many more female elves and men than he had expected. Only three of them, one of each race, was allowed into the council itself, but the others milled about in a crowd of about thirty or so down the hill from the council chamber.

Elrond rose and decided at that moment to do introductions.

"Friends and strangers, welcome to Rivendell. You all know I have called a council here, but maybe you don't all know for what purpose. Let me call you out by name, and then we shall have much to discuss about what is going on, here," he said in a lilting voice that was almost too pleasant to hear- it made Frodo want to fall asleep.

"This is Legolas son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood and his bodyguard. Here is Gloin and his son Gimli and their entourage, and Boromir son of Denethor the Steward of Gondor and his crew. Mithrandir, whom I am sure you all know, is here, and here is Frodo son of Drogo of the Shire. We have three unexpected members of the council this morning, and I would like them to introduce themselves, seeing as I can barely pronounce their names."

Frodo jerked awake when Gandalf prodded his should gently, and felt slightly guilty. A tall elf maiden with long raven black hair that trailed behind her like a wedding train stood, and she was clad in an absurdly pink gown. Her face was pointy, pale, and irritatingly attractive, and her eyes were too large for her face by a mile.

"I am Elenhahendiel, daughter of LeggyLover101 of the Grey Havens, but you can call me Ellen. I am here to aid the Free People of Middle Earth." Her eyes kept flitting around the council, lingering slightly longer on Legolas, who seemed to have begun sweating nervously. The tall elf maiden sat, and a much shorter but still willowy woman of rippling auburn hair and rather distractingly large breasts stood up. She was wearing traveling clothes of absurd design, which left her belly and the most part of her legs bare. Boromir was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, but Aragorn seemed irritated.

"I am Wynalwhaana Willowsleaf of the Dunedain," she said in a voice which was trying to sound more like bells ringing than vocal chords talking. Frodo strained to hear what it was she was actually saying.

"YOU ARE NOT!" shouted Aragorn suddenly. "THERE ARE NO FEMALE DUNEDAIN!"

"Lord Aragorn, please be quiet, we know your scruples with this woman already. Let her speak," Elrond commanded him sternly. Aragorn sat down, pouting.

"I am here to join in your cause as well, and I offer you my powers, such as they are," said the woman. "Also, you can call me Winna." She sat down, crossing her legs and eyeing Aragorn indignantly. Then the last lady rose, and she was only a hobbit, not uncommonly beautiful but still pretty. Her hair was curly gold, and her eyes twinkled pleasantly. She was wearing plain hobbit's clothes, albeit there were pants under her skirts.

"I am BerryBum Took of the lands just east of the Shire. Call me Berry. I am just here to help Mr. Frodo." She sat again, and there was little or no height difference. Frodo looked at her curiously- out of all the female visitors, she was the most believable. Elrond stood now, and folded his hands in front of himself.

"I would like to first of all clear up what the _hell _all you ladies are doing here, exactly," he said pointedly.

"We are called here by our duty, my lord," said Ellen. "We will know it when it comes upon us." Elrond's eyebrow stayed firmly lodged in his hairline, but he went on anyway.

"Fine. Let's address the real problem here. All of you here may not know the most recent tale of the One Ring, but I bet you all know the history. If you don't there's a huge library here, go improve yourself. Anyway, Mr. Frodo here has been kind enough to brave the Nazgul themselves to bring us this Ring. Go ahead and let them have a look at it, Frodo," he said, gesturing towards Frodo who had thankfully not quite fallen asleep again yet. He got up and reluctantly put the ring on the pedestal that was at the center of the council circle.

"NO!" cried Ellen melodramatically. She buried her face in her hands and turned her body away from the center.

"Oh, shut up, you twit, its only a ring. You can look at it, I promise," Elrond snapped at her. She pulled her hands off of her face and eyed the thing suspiciously.

"Anyway!" Elrond continued, loudly. "Here's the whole thing in a nutshell: We have no choice but to take this ring back to Mordor and throw it into Mount Doom. Who's volunteering?"

A cricket chirped somewhere in the trees.  
"Hang on a minute," Boromir piped up. "Why can't we just use it to kill Sauron?"

"Are you stupid?" Aragorn asked, flustered. "It's THE ONE RING. You basically turn into Gollum if you use it."

"_Gross_, " Legolas opined.

"What?" Boromir asked, confused "But I thought…"

"Look, no more stupid questions," Elrond butted in. "We are taking this thing to Mordor. End of story. Now, who's going?"

Silence prevailed.

"Come on, you pussies. I'm going to send more than one of you, now man up."

"Okay, fine, you know what?" Frodo suddenly asked, hopping out of his chair. "I'm going to do it. I am taking the ring. Now, who's going to help me?" He cast around the circle.

Silence prevailed again.

"I am going to start volunteering you if you don't do it yourselves, assholes," Elrond growled dangerously. Aragorn stood up reluctantly.

"Alright, alright. You have my sword," he said.

"Thanks for that, Strider," said Frodo.

"No, I mean, you can have my sword. Seriously, take it, she's a beauty." Aragorn said, grinning guiltily.

"ARAGORN!" screamed Gandalf and Elrond at once. The Dunedain jumped slightly and threw up his hands.

"FINE! I'm going! Alright!" He shuffled over to Frodo.

"I had better go, of course," Gandalf said, moving beside Frodo too. "Someone who knows what they are doing should be in this party."

"Me too," said Legolas, getting up and twirling a strand of his glimmering wheat-colored hair around his finger nervously. "I'll go. I'm a decent shot."

"There is NO WAY I am letting this shit go without a Dwarf's input," Gimli said suddenly, standing up and tapping his walking-ax on the stone floor. "You tall fucks thing you can get away with leaving us beardy folk out of this, _really_…"

"Good, awesome, okay. This is good." Elrond cast around looking for another person he thought might be helpful to the company, eyes passing right over the women. Suddenly Sam burst out of the trees.

"HEY NOW! Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without me!" he protested, butting in between Aragorn and his master.

"Fine, whatever!" Elrond shouted, tired of the whole business already.

"Us too!" shouted two voices in unison as Merry and Pippin appeared from the halls in the house and joined the growing group.

"Hang on, you're letting these shrimps go?" Boromir asked incredulously.

"Sure, why not?" Elrond replied. "They want to go and the rest of you don't."

"Hell no. I'm going," the Gondor man said, rising and making his way over to the company. "Gondor should be properly represented here."

"Well, shit… that's perfect!" Elrond exclaimed. "Nine companions set against the nine Nazgul riders. Cool!"

And for a split second everything was alright. But then, all of the women who had miraculously appeared in time for Elrond's council, even the ones in the glade below the council room, began shrieking gleefully at once.

"Oh, Christ," moaned Elrond despairingly. "What now?"

"THAT'S IT!" shouted Ellen. "That's what I am! I am the Tenth Walker!" All the rest of the women began saying similar things in rapturous tones.

"Wait one godforsaken minute!" Elrond protested loudly, silencing the cooing and excited talking of the women. "Am I getting this right? You're all the tenth member of this Fellowship?"

"Yes!" they all shrieked in chorus. Elrond's face began to harden into fury.

"SAYS WHO?" he asked at the top of his lungs.

"THE WRITERS!!!!!" the Tenwalkers all shouted in unison. Elrond crossed his arms.

"No way. There is NO WAY."

"Oh come on," said the hobbit-tenwalker, Berry. "Can't you just send one of us? Like, maybe, me?"

"Why should I send you?" Elrond asked.

"Because I'm not a ship!" the wee woman replied cheerfully.

"A what?" asked almost every non-Tenwalker within earshot.

"A ship!" repeated Berry.

"What does that even mean?" Boromir asked, rolling his eyes.

"It means I don't want to rape any of you," Berry replied, crossing her arms. There was a moment of stunned silence.

"Oh," said the company almost at once.

"And also I am reasonably dressed," Berry pointed out.

"Clothes don't matter!" protested Winna. "I can shoot, fight at close range and fly!"

"Really, now?" Elrond asked. "Fly for me. Right now,"

Silence, again.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. Winna looked nervous.

"Fine," she said, and stood pin straight with her hands opened fully by her sides. Slowly she began to rise from the ground, and the council watched in stunned silence.

She got about four feet in the air before she fell back to earth, landing hard on her bum.

"Er, I'm working on it," she said, grinning bashfully.

"Right. Well, we'll see about this. I'm hungry, so, let's go eat." Elrond said, waving them all into the Last Homely House for lunch.

* * *

As they sat munching on the elf-kibble, Frodo noticed Gimli and Gloin, his father, taking to each other in hushed tones beside him at the table. Curious, he poked Gimli's shoulder. The armor the dwarf was wearing meant that this had absolutely no effect, so he poked the side of his hairy head instead.

"Wha- oh. Yes, Sir Halfling?" asked the dwarf, wiping some of the crumbs off of his beard.

"I was just wondering, Gimli, what you're talking about," Frodo said politely.

"Oh. Well, I was just noticing that there are no dwarf-Tenth Walkers. Seems odd, don't you think?"

Frodo cast about the hall, which was packed with Tenth Walkers. They sat huddled in groups eating kibble and gushing about their respective ships.

"Wow, you're right. They're all just elves or women," he said. "Even the occasional hobbit,"

"Indeed! Have not the Dwarves merited a Tenth Walker?" wondered Gimli aloud.

"I suppose there are some in the world, somewhere. Maybe you should consider yourself lucky," Frodo pointed out.

"Perhaps. But there have been reports of yet more bizarre creatures roaming the land and yet none of these have come to the dwarves either,"

"More?" Frodo asked, astonished.

"Yes! They are fell things indeed," the dwarf said, beginning to whisper to him. "They have been plaguing Mirkwood and the Wild on this side of the Misty Mountains as well. There are even reports of them from the Shire!"

"Oh my goodness!" Frodo breathed, terrified. "What are they?"

"They are known as the Dread Mary Sues. They are beautiful women, as you see them here, only with more bizarre powers and magic. They are wondrous fair to look upon, so fair that they have been known to drive the one they pursue mad, at least initially. It is said that they seek the Prince of Mirkwood and the heir to the throne of Gondor the most," the dwarf told him, casting his eyes to the head of the table where Aragorn was talking to Elrond and Legolas was buffing his nails.

"What do the Mary Sues do to them?" he asked, feeling mortified for his friends.

"They pursue their love to the brink of madness. But our friend's hearts are strong, and they have rejected almost every Mary Sue advance they have encountered."

"What of the ones they could not resist?" Frodo asked. Gimli's face went very, very grave.

"They killed them," he said somberly and forebodingly. Frodo was silent with awe and terror. "They have sought other men as well, and there is an entire coven of them devoted to someone they call Figwit, but no one seems to know who that is or what they're talking about,"

"Jesus," Frodo said. "Are they some device of the Enemy?"

"Who knows?" Gimli shrugged. "They don't seem to do much other than sulk and depart, once they are finally rejected."

"Strange indeed," Frodo said, eating another spoonful of kibble. "I hope we never come across one,"

"I can only hope with you, my friend," Gimli said, nodding soberly. "As to this Tenth Walker business, we shall see what Lord Elrond makes of it."


	2. Tenwalker Tryouts

Chapter Two: The Tenwalker Tryouts

* * *

Elrond stood surveying the mass of Tenth Walkers who were crowding one of his lawns, looking grumpy as an elf could look. The Fellowship members all stood behind him, murmuring nervously to each other.

"Alright, you lot, settle down," Elrond said loudly to the crowd. They continued to chatter and giggle, but a few turned around to listen.

"Hey," the elf continued more loudly, his pointed ears beginning to burn. "Seriously. Listen up!"

The murmurs continued.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, and the women fell silent, staring at him like frightened rabbits.

"Alright then! Now. Let's get to business, here. Seeing as apparently all of you here are Tenth Walkers, some decisions are going to have to be made. We can't send all of you, so we're going to have a tournament," The crowd buzzed excitedly. The Fellowship members looked at each other and shrugged.

"Wait, what's the object?" asked Berry, who was standing near the front of the crowd. "And how many are going?"

"I'm getting to it!" Elrond grumbled. "The object is to prove that you are worthy in battle, and that you will not be, er… _distracted_ by any of the members of this Fellowship," The murmuring rippled out and then shushed again when Elrond's ears began turning purple.

"And the final number we have chosen is three, preferably one of each race," he concluded, his eye twitching in his effort to subdue his profound irritation. Berry nodded to herself, looking pleased with these answers.

"Now, there has been an obstacle course set up in the horse pastures, and I would like you to all make your way there in an orderly fashion, but only the elves may line up for competition. The rest of you, we'll get to you later."

As the Tenth Walkers made their way excitedly towards the pastures, Elrond turned to the Fellowship.

"Sound good to you?" he asked.

"Er, sure. Sounds good." Said Aragorn. Legolas was looking nervous again. Gimli looked rather sullen.

"What disturbs you, Master Dwarf?" asked Elrond.

"I am merely wondering why there are no Dwarvish Tenth Walkers, my lord," Gimli said.

"I daresay I can only be glad that there aren't any more. Though I feel certain about ten more appeared last night," Elrond sighed dejectedly. "Anyway, I need Legolas, Aragorn, Frodo and Gandalf to accompany me to the field, please,"

And they made their way to the obstacle course, already heavy with the task that lay before them.

* * *

Two days later, Legolas sat nervously facing the final two elf women who had been the most impressive in the war-games. Aragorn, Frodo, and Gandalf stood behind him, watching intently.

"Pick one, buddy," Aragorn said. "Go on," But Legolas sat perspiring, his eyes darting from one pale elven face to another. The blonde one was taller than him, had one green eye and one blue eye, and was looking at him far too intently. He wasn't sure if she wanted to win or wanted to rape him, and he certainly did not want to find out. The brunette was shorter and less pointy in the face, and while she was wearing absurdly designed amour she wasn't giving him the creeps. He had of course already chosen her, but he was afraid see the reaction of her competitor.

"Um," he said articulately.

"We don't have all day, here," said Elrond, walking up to them and rubbing his forehead. "Get a move on!"

"Er, yes, well. I think… ah… maybe… Nullamothiel. Yes," the prince stammered finally, staring with sheer unmasked horror into the different colored eyes of Ellorahvindiel. But all she did was frown and cross her arms. Nulla smiled pleasantly and did a tiny curtsey.

"Thank you, my lord!" she said cheerfully, and danced off into the woods to gossip with the other Tenwalkers. The blonde stood blinking, growled lowly, and stalked off. Legolas heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into his chair.

"Well done. Not the brightest crayon in the box, but that hardly matters," said Gandalf, who lit his pipe.

"I need an apple martini," the elf prince pronounced, and nimbly leapt from his chair and sauntered inside the Last Homely House.

"Who's next?" Elrond asked almost cheerfully. A bird twittered in the bushes nearby.

"You're going to do this to me again, really?" he asked, exasperated.

"Fine, fine, fine," Aragorn said. "Let's get it over with."

* * *

That night as they sat feasting in halls of Rivendell, Gimli espied Aragorn talking to a stunning blonde woman and crept over to investigate. Upon closer inspection he found that Aragorn was in fact trapped against the wall as she talked smoothly to him and winked and fluttered her eyelashes at a mile a minute.

"I know you have a think for brunettes, but haven't you ever heard that blondes have more fun?" she asked through a flurry of eyelashes.

"Er… no, can't say as I have heard that. Not a fan, really, no, I prefer brunettes," the Ranger replied, nervously sipping his elf-water (which for all the world tasted like Crystal Light pink lemonade.)

"But don't you ever wonder where the expression comes from?" she insisted, and Gimli wondered if in fact her eyelashes would fall off. He grinned, thinking that he could use this situation to his advantage, and butted in.

"Well, lassie, you can teach me the origin of the phrase anytime you like!" he said, barging up behind her and putting a stubby arm around her waist. She looked at him, horrified, and began to inch away.

"Um, yes, well, maybe… I have to pee," she said quickly, and dashed off. Aragorn sighed in relief.

"She'll be back," Gimli said, winking at him. "She loves me," Aragorn looked doubtful, but smiled anyway and tipped his goblet at Gimli in gratitude.

"So, how goes the judging, Lord?" the dwarf asked him pleasantly.

"Terrifying," he replied, finishing his elf-water in one long swallow.

"Well, good luck to you!" Gimli replied, clapping the man forcefully on the back and causing him to burp rather painfully.

* * *

By the end of the Man round of tryouts, Elrond had taken up smoking. He spent his days now herding Tenwalkers, keeping them off the ancient artifacts and out of the bedroom suites of the Fellowship members.

"They're like cows," he told Gandalf wearily as he puffed on a pipe he had borrowed from Bilbo (who was staying as far out of the business as he could.) "They just stare at you with their great stupid glittering eyeballs as if you were speaking gibberish, and you have to just sort of stare back at them until they scoot off,"

"Do you think I could help?" the wizard offered.

"Not really, but thanks for the offer," At that moment Aragorn came staggering in from the pastures.

"How'd it go?" asked Elrond.

"Awful," moaned the Ranger. "But I picked this woman named Mayleene who seems to bat her eyelashes somewhat slower than the others,"

"Well, that's good. Go and get some rest, will you?" Gandalf advised him, and the man gladly staggered off down the hall towards his suite.

* * *

The Tenwalker hobbits, some of whom were absurdly elflike despite their tiny stature, stood milling about the pastures when Frodo and Elrond approached them.

"I warn you, Master Hobbit, this could get ugly," Elrond said.

"It's alright. I think I can handle it," Frodo replied, his hands shaking in his pockets. As they approached, the crowd fell silent. Elrond had gained somewhat of a reputation.

"Everyone, please listen. I'm sorry to report this, but it's getting far too late in the year and this tournament has gone on for way too long. So I would like you all to be respectful when Master Frodo pronounces his choice from among you, and please remember that you may yet be able to help us in the future," Elrond said. It was apparent that there was a strong urge from the crowd to mumble and whisper, but they refrained.

"Say what?" Frodo murmured to him, confused.

"I'm just throwing that last bit out to pacify them. Go ahead and tell them," the elf replied. Swallowing hard, Frodo turned the ring around in his pocket and addressed the crowd.

"Well, I first want to say I'm sorry about the cancellation. But my choice is BerryBum Took, and I'd like to thank the rest of you for being so patient," The Tenwalkers could not repress their exasperation this time, and they began to protest. But Berry came up towards the front and shot them all a look, and they fell sullenly silent.

"Thanks, Frodo," she said, smiling pleasantly at him.

"No, thank you for making this choice absurdly easy for me," the ringbearer replied under his breath as they departed, leaving the crowd mumbling in dejection.

"I'm just glad to have this insanity over with. It's high time you lot got out of here," Elrond said. "Though I suppose I will have to ride herd on these idiots until such time as we can dispose of them,"

"You could use them, you know. They may be stupid, but I bet they would make a decent army," Berry pointed out. A gleam came into Elrond's eye, and Stood still for a moment staring into the distance.

"What a scathingly brilliant idea..."


	3. A Grumpy Mountain and an Invisible Door

Chapter Three: A Grumpy Mountain and an Invisible Door

* * *

The Fellowship was toiling up the mountain in the snow. The hobbits, including Berry, were near to tunneling. It felt like and endless stream of days had led them to this point, and they were all exhausted, even the Tenwalkers- who had inexplicably multiplied. Frodo, feeling almost delirious, was composing a journal entry in his head.

_No clue what day it is, Caradhras._

_More Tenwalkers are appearing on the road. We picked up at least a dozen of them about a week ago, but some of them were too rabid in their love for Legolas and Aragorn and we had to, um, dispose of them. There are even a few who are eyeballing me, and it makes me very uncomfortable.  
Anyway, the real problem is the road. Either some device of the enemy is re-routing snow in our direction, or this mountain has irritable bowel syndrome. Can't tell which. Legolas is on the edge of a mental breakdown, between his stalking fans and the voices he keeps hearing, supposedly on the wind. We'll see. At least if he collapses we won't have to extend lunch an extra fifteen minutes so he can fix his hair. _

And indeed, Legolas was looking pallid, even too much so for an elf. No circles were under his eyes and he did not sweat, but there was a harried look about him and he kept at least one eye on all of the Tenwalkers that he could at any given moment.

Gandalf pushed them onward into the flurries, and the snow only got heavier and the wind howled more loudly. Without warning, stones began tumbling down the mountain, hitting a few of the less wary Tenwalkers over the head.

"This is absurd," Berry piped up. "It _never_ snows this hard this far south or this low on the mountain."

"I agree, " Aragorn said. "Usually these paths are open all winter," Gandalf just glared at them and kept walking.

An hour later they had gone maybe half a mile, and a boulder came down the mountain, killing two of Legolas' fangirls. He looked almost relieved, but then he spoke urgently to Gandalf.

"Okay, I am not out of my mind. The voices are still all around us. One voice, maybe, but either way we had better get lost." The wizard sighed heavily.

"Fine, but there is only one way to go if we cannot pass through the Redhorn Gate," he said darkly. "_And_ I am nearly out of pipeweed. Damnation and hellfire," he cursed to himself.

"Any way is better than Caradhras," Merry said miserably. Berry stroked his curly hair reassuringly.

"Not this way," Gandalf replied.

* * *

The company, which was now thirty strong with more accumulated fangirls who managed to keep their furious adoration at bay, stood staring at a long stretch of high grey walls.

"Look, Gimli, you are absolutely no help here," Gandalf said, eyeing the glowing doors that would not open.

"I don't know how you expect _me_ to know anything about the password since the gate has been closed for nearly eternity," the Dwarf grumped right back. Legolas sat trimming his nails with a wee paring knife he had borrowed from one of the Hobbit Tenwalkers who had a huge crush on Pippin.

"I personally don't give a dead Dwarf's dick if we don't get into Moria," he opined sharply.

"Shudup, elfling," Gimli growled at him.

"Boys, if you can't play nicely you can't play together," Gandalf snapped. There was a soft cough coming from a Tenwalker, an elf maiden who bore a rather huge double-bladed sword with glittering red hair.

"Do shut up," Gandalf told her.

"I was only going to try and help!" shrieked the elf maiden indignantly.

"Try away," the wizard sighed.

"I mean, just read the inscription differently. Put different emphasis on it," she suggested. Her eyes darted from the door to Legolas, who had stopped pruning his nails and was now combing his hair our of sheer boredom.

"Speak, friend, and enter," Gandalf read aloud for the billionth time.

"No, no, go with 'Speak 'friend' and enter,'" the ginger elf said.

"Speak… _friend_…" Gandalf mused.

"Oh!" said Frodo, smiling. "Maybe it should translate to 'say' friend. What's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellon!" cried all of the girls present who were of elf descent. The doors began very suddenly to creak open.

"So apparently these creatures are good for something other than scaring us half out of our wits," Aragorn murmured to Legolas. One of the Tenwalker woman who had an absurdly heightened sense of hearing turned to him, her expression one of stunned horror.

"Creatures? _Creatures?_ You were supposed to love me!" she wailed. Aragorn looked both confused and terrified.

"Say what?" he asked.

"You monster! You're so cruel!" she shrieked. "You have ruined my purpose in being here!"

"ZOMG, StriderLuvr, STFU," said one of the other woman Tenwalkers in a most bizarre dialect. "U like, totally don't even matter 2 him. He luvs ME,"

"Says who?" Aragorn wondered aloud, but his words were muffled by a wail of despair from the first Tenwalker.

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed at him, and then she sprinted into the lake, hovered into the air until she was out over the middle of it, and plummeted like a stone into the murky water. A moment of deathly silence followed her plunge.

"Manwe _damn_ it all!" Gandalf cursed. "We almost made it in…"

"What are you talking about?" Frodo asked, but before the wizard could answer the make began to boil and seethe and about a hundred tentacles came flying out of it towards them.

"RUN!" screamed Gandalf, and the Fellowship sprinted for the gaping black doorway of Moria. Unsurprisingly the tentacles made straight for Frodo, but this seemed to affect the Tenwalkers profoundly. In fact, they all stopped and turned to face the tentacles, and began screaming all kinds of weird battle cries. Frodo just barely escaped being snatched before they flung themselves between him and the monster, and the doors slammed shut behind him.

They stood panting and wheezing in the dark, which was otherwise almost eerily silent.

"Awesome," Boromir said finally. "Just great,"

"We are stuck in a Dwarfish hole with no light for four days," Legolas added.

"Oh shut up," Gandalf said as he tapped his staff on the ground. "I have been trying to light this fucker for about two minutes." The tip of his staff flickered twice and then came to life with a pale glimmering witch-light. "Piece of shit," the wizard grumbled.

"Thanks for nothing, old man. I will _never _get my hair done by that light." Legolas whined.

"If you don't shut up about your hair, I am going to cut it off," growled Boromir. He cast about in the dim light taking stock of their numbers. Berry's voice came from a darker corner suddenly.

"We're down to about fifteen," she said. "But I am more concerned about all the bones and orc-arrows in here,"

"Shit," Gandalf said. "Let's get a move on, people. Does anyone else have a light?"

"I have a magic lantern," said one of the woman Tenwalkers, of sturdy Rohan build but with bizzarely purple hair whose name was Leigh. "It's not really bright, but it will probably help,"

"Good deal. Light it and let's _go_," said the wizard, who began to lead them on into the darkness.


	4. Some Unsuccessful Sneaking

Chapter Four: Some Unsuccessful Sneaking

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: thanks reviewers, favers and followers! You guys make my day every day and I am more than happy to be entertaining you!

* * *

As the company sat before three dark doorways taking a bit of lunch and smoking, Frodo sat next to Gandalf looking haggard and depressed. He was putting the finishing touches on his journal entry.

_Moria, day 2_

_ It's dark in here. Dark and cold. I hate it. I hate this place. I hate these stupid Tenth Walkers (except Berry, she's cool.) I hate walking. I hate narrow paths which are sheer cliff on one side and sheer precipice on the other. I hate stairs, a LOT. I hate the ring. I hate everything. Did I mention it's dark?_

"Oh, Gandalf," he sighed as he put his journal back into his bag. "Life sucks."

"And then you die. Yep, that's about it," the wizard said as he puffed on the last of his pipeweed. "My suggestion would be for you to survive this whole thing and get laid. Then you'll feel better."

"How in the hell am I supposed to survive this? It's suicide!" the hobbit exclaimed.

"You might find that you feel the same way about trying to get laid. But we find our way through these things, eventually." The old man eyed the passageways. "I wish I didn't smoke so much pot in the sixties. My memory is shot." This was one of those things that Gandalf occasionally said which made no sense whatsoever to Frodo and slightly frightened him, and thus he typically just ignored them as half-mad mumblings.

"I trust you, Gandalf," Frodo replied, sounding weary.

"You sound down," Berry said as she padded up the stairs to the landing where Gandalf and Frodo sat.

"That's because life sucks and I am going to die." The ringbearer replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh it's not so bad. My cousin was a Mary Sue and she got eaten by a mob of Flamers in the faraway land of Forum. Not that she didn't deserve it, but those Flamers can be so horribly cruel," Berry said comfortingly. "If you were being tortured and eaten by Flamers you'd prefer being the Ringbearer."

"What's a Mary Sue, exactly?" Frodo asked, feeling both intensely curious and slightly terrified. "There are fearsome rum ours about them."

"Speak no more of these creatures," Gandalf said gruffly. "Suffice it to say that they are among the most evil things that have appeared in this world since the Elder Days. Pray that you may never meet one." Frodo looked a little sulky, but he changed the subject anyway.

"Picked one yet?" he asked the wizard.

"Well, maybe that one," the Wizard said, pointing down the middle. That one smells bad and the other one just creeps me out."

"How wise you are," sighed Frodo as he stood up reluctantly. "Let's get going before my butt falls asleep again."

* * *

As the Fellowship and their crew of remaining Tenwalkers hurried down an narrow passageway, suddenly the walls in either side of them ended and the light from the staff and lantern seemed to touch nothing at all but more darkness. There seemed to be almost a draft, a feeling of open air much larger than any other they had come upon.

"Where are we?" Boromir asked.

"I believe this is the Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf said. "It was one the great city and heart of Moria's activity." He tapped his staff gently on the hard stone floor and it picked up levels of brightness until it revealed a forest of columns supporting a roof which was almost like a sky above them. Off towards their right there was a doorway.

"Let's go through this door and see what's going on. It's night outside, or else the daylight would be coming through in shafts," the wizard suggested, leading the company towards the door. It revealed a smallish room with a large rectangular stone slab and a hole in its floor, with dwarf corpses strewn about. Another doorway, with and actual door on it, was on the east wall. Gimli approached the stone slab cautiously.

"Oh, no," he said, his face falling as he read the runes carved there. He fell to his knees and rested his head on the stone, looking heavy and sad. Gandalf came over to investigate.

"'Here lies Balin son of Fundin, Lord of Moria,'" he read aloud. "Well, that's upsetting."

"Hey, Gandalf," Merry said. "There's a great big bloody book over here." The wizard hobbled over to investigate that too. Pippin looked at the hole in the floor with that fear that only those who have stood on the edge of a cliff of the Grand Canyon know.

"This is a records-book. Let me read a bit of it," Gandalf said to the company. "Hmmm… here. 'They've taken the Bridge and the Second Hall. We cannot hold the gates for long. This whole expedition was a huge bloody mistake if you ask me. I mean, its sounds heroic and stuff, going into your long lost abode to reclaim it, but there weren't thatfuckingmany of us. In fact…' and wait, this part is crossed out, but I think it said 'Balin is probably out of his fucking mind.' Then someone else's handwriting takes it up and it says 'Drums. There are drums beating someplace, a lot of them, and the ground is shaking. They're trying to frighten us. But I don't care. They can take our lives, but not our freeeedoommm!!!' and then it ends. Wow."

"I get the distinct feeling that that means we should, ah, get the blazing hells out of here," Aragorn opined.

"Agreed," said Boromir.

"Absolutely." said Legolas. All the Tenth Walkers made mumbling agreeing sounds at once. The hobbits nodded, except Pippin who was daring himself to get closer to the hole.

"Probably right," said Gandalf. But he still stood there, thumbing delicately through the crumbling pages. "Hmm."

"Er, Gandalf, TODAY PLEASE," Legolas said, his voice cracking toward the end.

"Don't get your panties in a knot, elfling!" the wizard grouched. The company stood there feeling uneasy, watching the wizard for any sign that he would stop playing historian soon and light the way for them to move on. Suddenly, a distant but still horribly loud-seeming _tink-ploomp_ sound echoed into the chamber. Gandalf nearly jumped a yard.

"What was that?" he and Legolas and Aragorn asked at once. Pippin stood by the well looking guilty with his hands behind his back.

"Er," he said.

"You _stupid infantile idiot fucking Took!_" Gandalf spat in muted fury. "All the Valar damn you to blindness and deafness and Alzheimer's and hemorrhoids! You inbred backwards little Freudian slip!" Legolas had covered his ears at this point and everyone else was looking at Gandalf half with horror and half with awe.

"Sorry!" the hobbit whined.

"Shut up, before I throw YOU in the well," growled the wizard. Just then, a distant _doom-doom _reverberated up from the well and for all they knew the core of the Earth herself. As it repeated itself louder and more times, they all looked at each other with sheer unmasked terror.

"Shit," Gandalf said.


End file.
